


Buckets Full of Love

by Calon Lân (Baruch_HaShem)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock, Gen, Hugging, John is dissatisfied with his life, M/M, Sherlock Loves John, longing for love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baruch_HaShem/pseuds/Calon%20L%C3%A2n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is dissatisfied with his life. Sherlock wants to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buckets Full of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters from the Sherlock BBC television series, nor any of the characters created by Arthur Conan Doyle.

John has not been happy with his life for several weeks. There are things in his past he regrets, things he wishes he could have done differently. Still, he does not want to complain, he has experienced a lot, not just a little, in his lifetime.

His regrets are mostly of a personal nature. He misses his youth, somehow feels that love, real love, eluded him, so far. The persons he wanted to spend his life with did not want to spend theirs with him. Though he would like to shake them off, these regrets are haunting him.

Deep down, he longs for a life partner, but has no clue where to find her, or him. Yes, the people he really wanted to share his life with were men. Sherlock does not know this, he thinks, for all intents and purposes he appears heterosexual. Somehow, this part of his past seems to have escaped even Mycroft.

Sherlock had made it clear from the beginning of their acquaintance that he was "married to his work", always has kept his guard up, therefore he has not even seriously considered him as a partner, aside from the occasional sexual fantasies and very general imagining 'what if'. Of course Sherlock is an attractive human being, but he is _not_ in love with him, contrary to what most other people think. Once or twice he has thought about whether he could feel more for him. ...

Grief, his wretched condition reminds him of. Or maybe he is beginning to have an early midlife crisis, he wonders. Having gone several times over different should-haves and could-haves in the past several weeks has not been conducive to feeling peace.

Listless, his shoulders slump. Lost in thought, the magazine he was reading rests on his lap. He hadn't noticed that he had closed his eyes, rubs at the moisture threatening to spill from their corners. To his left, he senses Sherlock stir, his turning a page of the book he is reading sounds loud in the stillness of the apartment.

"I'll go make some tea," John states, getting up, not bothering to ask Sherlock whether he wants some as well. As if tea, or a change of scenery, being in the kitchen instead of the living room, could take the sadness he feels away.

***

Sherlock is not as insensitive as a lot of people assume him to be. He does feel sentiment, though often he has wished he was not so aware of it. His efforts to ignore his feelings, affection, for John are quite fruitless, though John certainly seems to be unaware of them.

Of course he has noticed that John is bothered by something lately, wondered if there is anything he can do to help ease his pain. When they are on cases, distracted by trying to solve crimes, John appears fine. But give him some time to think, and his sadness shows clearly on his face and in his posture, recognizable even to Sherlock.

He gets up, quietly joins John in the kitchen. With both hands placed on the counter, his head bent down, he looks resigned.

"John," Sherlock says softly, "is there anything I can do to help?"

John's head comes up sharply, he looks at Sherlock with big eyes, as if what Sherlock asked was completely outlandish.

"Help? You?" John purses his lips. "You've interrupted enough of my dates! I've had it!" He bursts out.

Sherlock is tempted to take a step back, but stays where he is, there is about two feet distance between them.

"I haven't done so recently. You have not been on any dates. - What is this about, really?"

John moves to pour hot water into his teacup. Noticing that there is only one cup, Sherlock raises his brows, obviously John is not his usual caring self. Ignoring Sherlock's question for the time being, teacup in hand, John makes his way back into the living room, sinks down into his armchair.

Sherlock follows, sits on the couch, studies John's face carefully.

"You know my life sucks, right? I live here, with you, we're friends, which is good and fine. Solving crimes with you is great. But that can't be it for the rest of my life, us sharing this flat. I need more, I want to love someone - truly, madly, deeply - that way. You know?" John's face looks almost bitter.

Sherlock wonders whether his loving John is like that. He knows he has a lot of love for him, enough for this lifetime and beyond.

"Have you loved like this?" He asks, curious.

Not expecting such a candid question from Sherlock, John is taken off guard.

"I have. When I was younger. I miss the intensity of it, also to be loved back."

"Was that with a man, or a woman?" Sherlock asks, not ignorant of the fact that John is not heterosexual.

John can hardly believe his ears, chooses not to answer.

A very small knowing smile spreads across Sherlock's face, he keeps quiet. If John does not want to share about his past, he can accept that. _At this time, is it wise to tell him how I feel about him?_ He decides it is not wise. John needs more time.

He would like to say, 'I love you. I'm here. Let me love you.' But he does not. What comes out instead is, "Would you like a hug?"

John's eyes go big again, as if Sherlock has grown two heads. "Hug?" he asks, disbelieving.

"Yes," Sherlock sits up a little straighter, "isn't that what friends do?"

"Hug," John repeats, narrowing his eyes. Sherlock is not known to be the hugging type. John looks serious.

Sherlock looks serious as well. He gets up, moves behind John's chair to stand parallel to it, not facing John.

"My offer stands. I have broad shoulders. You appear in need of 'a shoulder to lean on.' - Come on, John, don't be difficult." Sherlock stretches out his hand in invitation, offering John to pull himself up on it.

John thinks for a few seconds, then, sighing, takes Sherlock's hand. John's weight makes Sherlock lean toward John until he is on his feet.

"This is weird," John states, holding on to Sherlock's hand, steps into his personal space.

 _Close!_ Sherlock sucks in a breath, with his right arm encircles John's back. At first, John's body is quite tense, until he allows himself to relax, rests the weight of his body and head against and on Sherlock.

So far, in his life, Sherlock has not hugged many people. People have hugged him. He and John have not hugged before. He finds holding John so close, feeling his breath and heartbeat, enthralling. Since John is still holding his hand, just leaning on him, not holding him, with his free hand, Sherlock begins to massage John's shoulder. After a minute he lets his hand wander to hold the back of John's head, touch his neck muscles and hair.

 _Caress..._ Sherlock realizes he is caressing John, very gently, almost imperceptibly. Is John noticing?

"Hmm," a very deep, relaxed, sigh is breathed in reply. "Wow, I had no idea your broad shoulders could do me so much good."

Sherlock can feel John's smile, before he steps back a little, breaking their close contact. He'd like to hold John like this every day, several times a day, lie down with him, caress, explore, love other places of his body, _love him_ for as long as he lives.

"Anytime, John." Sherlock squeezes John's hand reassuringly, before letting go, giving John the opportunity to step back further. Which John does, but not before searching Sherlock's eyes for a few intense moments. _What is he looking for? Does he see it?_

"Thank you. I do feel better." John goes sit in his armchair again, picks up his magazine, but doesn't read right away.

Sherlock goes sit on the couch again, picks up his book, he doesn't read right away, either.

They look at each other, smile, nod in the other's direction, then resume reading.

John will have to figure this out himself.

Sherlock will wait. He loves John.


End file.
